


A Trip Down Memory Lane

by AVeryConfusedBird



Series: Assholes Of The Round Table [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Adopted Sibling Relationship, Demi-Gods, Demons, Devils, Dragons, Elves, Fae & Fairies, Faeries - Freeform, Fairies, Family, Found Family, Gods, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Magic, Murder, Mythology - Freeform, Mythology References, Period-Typical Racism, Pixies, Team as Family, Werewolves, Witches, Wizards
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-28
Updated: 2019-05-28
Packaged: 2020-03-26 06:49:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19000549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AVeryConfusedBird/pseuds/AVeryConfusedBird
Summary: “It’s not an antique. It’s...haunted. I think.” She answered; voice unsteady as she finished. Now this piqued his interest.“You think it’s haunted?” He asked, sliding it towards him at that, fingers twitching with magic as he subtly began casting an identifying spell over the object.Myrddin Recalls how he met all the members of his little family





	A Trip Down Memory Lane

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!! please, let me know what you think in the comments, all kudos and comments are greatly appreciated!!!

Safir was the first to come into Myrddin’s care. If he remembered correctly, it’d been 1966.

 

A human woman had come in to the store. Her face up tight and full of ego, with a hint of nervousness as she entered, almost ashamed to be in such a place of low caliber as she very quickly b lined for the counter that Myrddin stood behind.  
“Hello Ma'am, How can I help?” He greeted her with a smile, as he always would no matter the customer, but inside he was dreading the no doubt encounter that they’d have.  
“Look I don’t believe in... this” the woman gestured widely to the store  
“but you have to take this off my hands” she had dumped what looked like an old second-hand type writer on the desk, a dulling green in colour, repairs needed in places but possibly still usable.  
“Ma’am I’d hate to be rude but I’m not an antique store or a repair shop” he offered looking to her again as his eyes cast over the Type Writer. _Or a dump_ he would think to himself  
“It’s not an antique. It’s...haunted. I think.” She answered; voice unsteady as she finished. Now this piqued his interest.  
“You think it’s haunted?” He asked, sliding it towards him at that, fingers twitching with magic as he subtly began casting an identifying spell over the object.  
“I’m the fourth person to have it in 6 months and refuse to keep it no longer. I don’t even want money for it I just want it gone.” She said  
“What leads you to believe it’s haunted though?” He asked again  
“It’s...eerie. Sometimes I swear the keys move on their own. Other things do too - nothing else changed and the lady I bought it off said the same thing but worse – Doors slamming, things being thrown without any reason to be. You can hear the clicking as it types away in the middle of the night. But that’s not all - I feel eyes on me all the time, something watching.” It was beginning to sound like a poltergeist problem the more she continued.

 

And with the agreement of him taking it without payment, and the endings of an Identifying spell, the lady was right. He had a haunted type writer on his hands.

 

The ghost, was needless to say, not pleased with its new arrangements as it was moved into the back. It didn’t take too long for it to become uncomfortable enough that it’d began throwing a tantrum – it’d escalated rather quickly even for a poltergeist. Thrown books, smashed glass, Myrddin woke up every morning to a hurricanes worth of disaster, but he was none the less put off by it. He’d help this ghost, if it was the last thing he did – which he really hoped it wouldn’t. he needed to find successors to take over the store after all. So, he gave the spirit the silent treatment. He closed the store, and within a weeks’ time, the spirit had all but gone silent with the lack of attention at his antics, but Myrddin was well aware that the ghost was still there. So, he finally set up wards so no new spirits could enter the library, the ancients that watched over the walls keeping him protected from the only ghost he knew was running around his apartment. He’d set up the Ouija board up, and had gotten rolling, his fingers resting upon the Planchette.

“Hello, lost spirit. I know you’re there. Why don’t you come say hello?” He spoke softly, waiting quietly until he felt it, the planchette move under his fingers gently, the mystic hand moving slowly towards where ‘hello’ was upon the board.

 

“Hello, spirit. Have you calmed down now?”

 

I T H I N K S O

 

“That’s good. Do you want to talk to me?”

 

S U R E

 

“That’s good! What’s your name? My name is Myrddin”

 

S A F I R

 

“Safir, that’s a wonderful name. Safir, do you know where you are?”

 

NO

 

“You’re in the city of Wakechester Safir.”

 

H O W

 

“A lady came in with a typewriter, was that yours?”

 

YES

 

“I have lots of questions Safir, but I’m sure you have more. Would you like to ask me some questions?”

 

YES

 

He learned a lot in that session. Safir was in his early 20’s, not sure how long since he died - eventually working it out at a little over 12 years ago. It’d made amazing distance apparently, his little typewriter, and to still be in such a good condition. He’d gotten it himself as a gift to himself for starting collage, worked all summer for it.

But others had made different plans for him. Safir was black. A black boy living in a segregated world who would never make it to college. His bones were somewhere in a forest over in the united states, he’d been taken out to be hung but didn’t think he made it that far anyway. Passed out from the injuries before they’d gotten to the location. His soul had attached to his typewriter, new, a symbol of something he so longingly wished for. But his soul was far to angry, as he had ever right to be. He’d been angry at his hand in life, angry at the world for letting it happen, and his soul had stuck, lashing out at whoever would touch his typewriter. And Myrddin didn’t judge him for his anger. He allowed the spirit to mourn what could have been and left out the board for the spirit to keep talking when it needed, while he learned how to fix up the typewriter.

Myrddin took him under his wing, given he had no other options for the ghost. Getting him his typewriter repaired seemed to strengthen his soul, enough so he could show his face, form barely distinguishable from that of a plain old human boy his age – maybe a little outdated with his coke bottle glasses, old fashioned haircut and letterman jacket but it wasn’t like Safir could change it. Maybe his eyes we’re a little too dead or sometimes he was a little too see through, but nobody noticed or mind the extra hand in the store though. He was clever, kind, and quick, taking to being a ghost as good as anyone could take it Myrddin supposed. And Myrddin didn’t mind, it’d been too long since he’d had company.

Slamming doors turned into waking up to breakfast being made, and a helping hand in the shop, and his first ever magical apprentice, as Safir had a new natural charm for the arcane arts.

 

The two of them were nice but the house still lonely, until 1994. When Myrddin came across the next of his little family.

He didn’t intend to stumble into a dragon’s nest. He didn’t even know dragons nested so low - he only wandered into the forest in search of ingredients! But there he was, in a splattering of red. Someone or something had attacked them, there was no sign of the mother or father to be seen - no loose scales of excessive blood implying they had been killed and hunted also. The splattering of eggs, a nest ransacked and a small near worthless horde abandoned and picked over certainly screamed something had gone wrong. The parents, probably. Too unsafe to nest but times were desperate for the poor dragons.

However, as Myrddin had tried to turn away, he saw it. One little egg.

A small crack in the side but not large or deep enough to have caused too much harm to the little one growing inside. It took all of Myrddin’s knowledge to work out what had happened - While he couldn’t place who or what, he had feelings it was likely to own parent, something had caused them to attack the eggs - 9 being destroyed, another couple of creatures had made off with a couple of the surviving eggs - at least 3, leaving the little fragile one behind who likely wouldn’t have made a journey with whatever ate dragon eggs. One egg, the one survivor of a nest of 13. So of course, he carried it home.

“what do you have in your coat old man” Safir, ever vigilant noticed immediately as Myrddin attempted to smuggle the egg upstairs to their flat  
“I’ll show you in a moment, right now I need to go get a fire going. Finish closing up shop, then we’ll talk” he hurried upstairs to the flat, quickly blasting the little pile of logs that resided in the chimney so it burned bright and hot, but still not hot enough for a dragon, before he’d had the idea, sticking it in a metal pot, and sticking all of it upon the fire. No water – he didn’t want to boil the poor thing, but the metal would surely keep it warm enough to hatch.  
“Alright so what is it?” Safir asked, floating through the floor giving Myrddin a scare  
“Easy my boy! My hearts not what it used to be. Come have a look” he smiled back, as Safir came over  
“that’s…an egg?”  
“Yes, a dragon egg. I’m going to hatch it”  
“Oh wonder-wait what?”

 

Nearly 6 months in a fire later, it was a tumbling sound and a wail that had woken Myrddin and Safir, as they’d both made moves to see what had gone off. Entering the living room, the metal pot of the lid had shot off, having imbedded itself in the ceiling with the force it had shot off. Laid on his living room floor, in shattered pieces of egg, was a dragon. More developed than a human baby would be at birth but still tiny, a toddler maybe a year at most, little red wings and tail wriggling in discomfort, claws kicking out. Honestly, he looked like a little fat gecko – all chubby fat, looking rather squishy and cuddly if not for the claws, teeth and scales. Myrddin’s eyes met with big yellow cats’ eyes, full of love and curiosity.  
“when you said you were hatching a dragon, I was picturing a fire breathing lizard, this is a baby” Safir pointed out, watching as Myrddin grabbed a towel to protect his hands, as he picked the very warm baby up gently  
“He is a dragon, and ne day he will be a very big fire breathing lizard, but this is how dragons look when they hatch” Myrddin smiled, watching as little clawed hands gripped at his robes, the towel warming with the natural warmth of the baby.  
“I think I’ll call him Arthur”  
“Arthur? Were not keeping him, we can’t!”

 

Needless to say, they kept Arthur. It didn’t take long before they’d both been roped into the role of a family for the toddler. Nothing could have prepared Myrddin for fatherhood, or Safir for begrudging brotherhood as they brought him up. The smell of charcoal or burning became familiar, and scorch marks around the house only got bigger as he’d learned to control his dragon like ways. They were regulars with the local fire department at this point – it was rather humorous if they did say so themselves. He looked like no one, to nobodies surprise but he also grew much BIGGER than them both. He had to hunker down to get through doorways in the flat or shuffle himself carefully around stacks of books. His natural hording only helped organize the house and the store more until eventually he didn’t have to watch every last step he took. But even with his dragon size, the house was still empty. However, Myrddin was thankful for Arthur’s dragon sized heart. A heart of a good man who only wanted to help everyone he could.

 

It was how they met Lance, after all, in 2012. Arthur, all grown up at 18 years old, had started work. His first call? A suspected rogue werewolf. Something had been attacking wildlife for two nights and had gotten progressively closer to the town. So, on the third night Arthur set out, dart gun in hand, silver bullets for an emergency. He found his wolf quickly, or rather it found him. A large shaggy pale Wolf, blondish white coat. Too inexperienced to put up a real fight or threat, going under the sleeping effects easily.  
“what on earth is that- oh my god- why’d you bring it here Arthur?!” Safir shrieked a little, watching as Arthur walked in the back door with the werewolf thrown over the shoulders  
“Well I couldn’t just *leave* him out there Safir, he’s still alive! And he was nothing like you warned me, it was more like cornering a puppy” Myrddin entered hearing their voices argue, looking at the shaggy blonde werewolf  
“It is fine Safir, we can deal with it. We can also question him in the morning this way” Safir looked like he wanted to argue the words, but didn’t accepting it as Myrddin tapped his nose

 

What he hasn’t expected to find the following morning in the cage that resided in the basement was a boy no older than himself, clinging to himself shaking with sobs. Lance had no memory of the nights before - of course he wouldn’t - only the days of waking in a forest naked, stripped of clothes and covered in animal gore. Now he had woken up in a cage, with shackles and a chain around his ankles. It was an awkward first meeting, but lance came around shortly to Arthur’s overly friendly demeanor, Safir’s snarky attitude, and Myrddin’s calming friendly voice.  
“So….Who are you all?” Lance had looked them over, wrapping himself in the blanket watching them  
“My name is Myrddin, this is Safir and Arthur, Arthur helped you last night” he smiled softly, taking a seat as he offered him a cup of tea. Lance accepted wearily, taking slow sips from the cup  
“Helped me? Helped me is waking up in a cage?” there was a bite to his voice, but from fear rather than deliberately lashing out  
“Lance, do you know why you were in the forest? Where you are?” Myrddin asked quietly, remaining relaxed as they spoke  
“Wakechester, right? That’s at least what four eyes said” he sniffled, sipping on his tea again, still shivering a little in cold, maybe a little ashamed of his earlier display  
“That’s right, but I don’t think you quiet realise why. Tell me lance, have you heard of lycanthropy?”

 

Lance, 4 days prior to this, had miraculously survived a werewolf attack. He’d come on a camping trip, not planning to go deep into the forest, at the entire other end of the expanse. Something ransacked his camp in the middle of the night, he barely escaped whatever had attacked him with only scratches down his back after attempting to flee the beast. He’d assumed he’d gotten lucky against an aggressive dog at most a regular wolf. But no, he’d been attacked at the peak times for werewolves, the night right before full moon. Someone had probably forgotten his bane and had turned some human kid into one of their own. Pack less, homeless, and with no way to safely return home. Myrddin decided it was time to open the door to the other flats.  
“Now, they might be a little dusty, it’s been a long time since any but my own have been used. But they should still be good for each of you to have a room” He creaked the first door open to look at the bare bones of the room inside. They needed some updating, but with the furniture they’d move the little flats would look more lively  
“Now, I know they’re not much, but they’re safe spaces for you each to live. There are a few more flats besides this one – 2 others, to be precise. However, at the moment they’re not used, so I’m going to leave them closed up” He smiled, watching as the group explored their individual new flats. Number 2 went to Safir, number 3 to Arthur, and number 4 to lance.  
Lance made a nice place in their home, while Myrddin would hate to compare him to a dog, he did fit in the family like one – laying in front of fires, taking up most of the sofas. A giant mutt who still thought he was a lap dog sized puppy. And the scratching of nails, and night-time howling only helped add to the air, but there was still room for more.

 

 

It was Guinevere who came next, the little bubbly witch to be, and it only fitting that it was lance that lead her to the family. Early into 2013, 7 months after lance had moved in, he had gained a lot of control quickly. One thing he was never used to was the enhanced senses. But never had he been more thankful to overhear that something mischievous was stirring in the forest. Someone was pulling tricks. They’d started out harmless enough, but we’re beginning to get dangerous - kids were wandering in there now trying to find whatever it was, and after a fairly young high school student went missing overnight claiming he’d been led about by something, it was time to intervene. With Arthur and lance as the wonder duo, they set out. The entire time lance could smell it - magic. Lingering, weak but always present. But also new. It smelt different before but now there was something. When lance ran face first into someone it surprised Arthur to say the least. A face he recognised anymore. Guinevere and he had been through school together. Shared some classes but had never been friends. He knew she’d been seen as weird - nothing more than a conspiracy theorist who most had deemed mildly insane by his school peers. Arthur at school has been the pretty boy - tall, smart, friendly, with a talent for anything athletic.

Guinevere had always known something wasn’t right with the town - you notice too much when you live here all your life, she would say to justify why she was in a forest in the middle of the night, a forest that she was pretty sure had a werewolf infestation. Never had she suspected to run into Arthur of all people either. Or the strange new boy with him.  
“Arthur? What are _you_  doing outside at this time?” Her voice had been accusatory to start, almost partially suspecting him to have finally fallen pray to the ways of the popular kids.  
“I could ask you the same thing?” No, he hadn’t. his voice was still kind as he smiled, nice, bright. Blinding. It’d started a casual chat until they’d gotten into an argument over why Guinevere should have left. No matter how much she insisted, Arthur couldn’t have her jeopardizing the mission, and had attempted to get her to leave, but she was stubborn and loud, drawing whatever was causing too them. It was lance who noticed it first, a spike in the stench of magic and the whistling as tree branches moved. With only enough time to tackle them to the ground, as the trees began swinging wildly, vines tangling and attempting to grab and grapple the trio. They ducked, dodged and weaved attempting to escape, the violent thrashing and creaking that followed them as they run, only for them to notice too late they were being driven off the edge of a drop off.

Guinevere’s feet stopped too late, as she went slipping a sliding off of the cliff edge, screaming as she fell.  
Never did she expect for something - someone to grab her wrist. She’d looked up in panic, frantically grabbing onto whoever had caught her, only to still her. A…woman? Had saved her. Frail, scrawny looking and weak, the huge dragonfly wings on her back beating rapidly in an attempt to keep them both afloat, long mats of woven gold hair covering her face, almost as long as her own body. She hadn’t intended to be stunned for so long, until she felt the grip on her wrist weakening.  
Arthur barely had time to think as he and lance went skidding to a Halt, dragon claws digging deep with the dirt to stop him and lance for meeting the same fate. He barely had time to register the glowing ball of flickering wings zooming past him, only when the screaming stopped did, he nearly throw himself off the edge to make sure Guinevere was okay. Imagine his and lances surprise to see a smallish human figure struggling to keep Guinevere safe, holding onto her wrist for dear life, but grip slipping with his lack of strength. Before he could think, his own wings were out as he glided down, grabbing a hold of Guinevere and flying her back up to the ledge where lance awaited.

 They’d immediately broken out into a raging fight, too distracted between themselves to notice the scrawny blond woman had gone scurrying off. Guinevere had won the argument, as the three of them entered the store again in the early morning, caked in mud, twigs and leaves from the forest.  
“Welcome-oh gods no. whose this. What did you do? Why are they here?” it was Safir who came to greet them, only to look over Guinevere suspiciously  
“Guinevere, Safir. Safir, this is Guinevere. Safir’s a ghost” Arthur stated as matter of facility, flopping onto the sofa in the entrance way in exhaustion  
“Why are you introducing me like- oh gods you’re human. Myrddin is going to KILL you Arthur. I will be excited to watch”

Needless to say, Myrddin did nearly chew Arthurs ear off with a lecture, he’d ultimately been happy to introduce Guinevere, to have someone so eager to learn and know everything. And she was wonderful – she knew aesthetically how to please people, helped the store finally shine and stand out. Safir would never fully admit he was thankful for her arrival when it did – the store needed more business and soon, and Guinevere’s clever little mind worked wonders for the store. It’d made Myrddin smile, seeing the enthusiasm she applied to everything. And he smiled even more, as he gave her the key to flat number 5.

 

It filled him more with confusion however, 3 weeks later when the tattered mess of a Fey was stood in the store.  
“ENGLISH MOTHERFUCKER, DO YOU SPEAK IT?” It was lance yelling, while Guinevere was curled over laughing, Arthur looking like he was board line melt down when the werewolf yelled at the figure who had followed them into their store. The curious figure only titled his head in confusion as Lance yelled.

They really were, a scrawny little thing – Myrddin as an elf his age wasn’t winning any muscle contests any time soon, but he was fairly sure he could probably have fit his hand entirely around the width of their arm. The fey wasn’t in the best of Conditions either – covered in mud, blood and other mess, the long golden blond hair so long it covered the poor things face – the little fey had to use its fingers to part its fringe to look at everything, as curious golden eyes wandered over the store. The only stitch of clothing really was just that – a stitch. It looked like it’d been ragged years ago, thin and worn with more holes than actual fabric, but it covered what it needed to.

“Hello, young one” he spoke quietly, voice holding a respectful tone, this time in sylvan. the fey immediately turning to look at him in confusion, before answering back in a soft voice  
“Hello, old one” his syllables were broken, his vocal cords straining as he spoke. Myrddin wondered how long it’d been since the fey had maybe spoken to anyone, much to far from the safe home of a shrine in the wilds. He must have been so lost.  
“May I ask how you found your way here? You’re so terribly far from a shrine.” He took a seat slowly on one of the chairs, holding his walking stick tightly. The fey, curious, mimicked his movements, taking a seat on one of the sofas, jumping in surprise at how it felt.  
“There was a hole” came the simply reply, the fey not quiet sure how further to explain what had gone on but Myrddin knew better, knew what he meant. Someone had been to the wilds and left a portal open. Myrddin considered himself lucky that it was only this young one that had come to their world.  
“Can I ask what name you prefer to go by? Who you are?”

Despite what Guinevere had said – a woman in the forest, she was wrong. Cornelius as the fey had introduced himself. Cornelius didn’t know how to explain everything that had gone on, but Myrddin could paint a picture in his mind. Cornelius didn’t have a shrine – had been removed from his previous home, barely 18 years old. He hadn’t meant for his magic to get this out of control - he only wanted a home. It was the trees to lash out first, he watched in horror as the trio run, wings flickering as fast as they could to catch up to them, to regain control of his magic but it was no use - the forest was alive, magic running rampant in its roots. He knew being a fey Cornelius would hold a lot of his secrets close to his chest, but Myrddin, again was cleverer than he looked. So, he’d taken care of the fey how he could, to help the young one feel safe. He’d offered a haircut first – noticing how much the fey grimaced at having to interact with it, how it weighed him down. Even if the fey wanted to keep the long hair, the matting wasn’t good. So, he’s started by shaving it off, and letting Cornelius have a warm bath – maybe the first he’d ever had in his life. And then dressing him in warm clothing.

Teaching the fey how to live normally was interesting. What absolutely fascinated Myrddin was how intelligent Cornelius was. He picked speaking different languages up like it was child’s play, and he was so talented at understanding the arcane – he’d been with them 2 weeks and Safir had already filled a book with spells and runes he previously had no idea existed. He was so intellectually bright. But also, spectacularly stupid. Having had to tell him multiple times that *no he can’t eat soap no matter how good it smelled*, not to do something because it’d blow up, stop him from doing it anyway. He was so unbelievably childlike and naughty, having likely known nothing else as he’d pull endless pranks and tricks, yells of anger and upset were common. Myrddin got close to using a spray bottle on him to get him to stop being mean to customers.  
But he was wonderful, a sunshine to a darkened doorstep.

 

A darkened doorstep that only grew darker when the cheeky little Fey tried to hide himself behind the six-and-a-half-foot demon he’d brought in the house. He’d gotten the rundown from an absolutely furious Safir. The demon had turned up around 5 months ago, and despite everyone’s warnings, Cornelius had lost his temper at being told not to interact with the demon, teddy out of the cot, and had started dating the demon in secret.  
“So, what did you say your name was again? And where are you staying?”  
“My names Galahad, and I was hoping to stay here. I…don’t have anywhere else, Sir.” Myrddin looked over the demon, who despite trying to look well presenting, had little faults that pointed out how nervous he was. Myrddin held an air of suspicion surround him only for a moment, before he knew the demon would be good, jabbing at his chest with the edge of the cane  
“Well, _Galahad_ , I’m happy for you to stay here but they’ll be some rules – No circles, I want none of your little friends crashing on the couch!” he joked, making the demon chuckle slightly, before he’d pointed his cane towards Cornelius, whose head was poking just around the side of Galahads arm, immediately ducking his face into Galahads back when he was being addressed  
“don’t think you’re not in trouble too young man, I should have known about this sooner. I could have given you my blessing easier then. Now, be good to each other.”

 The demon was interesting, to move in. He didn’t have much, and mostly acquired stuff as he went along but it was curious, the demon doing things when he thought nobody could see or was watching. Or even doing things without realising – they’d all feel him being there before he came into view, sitting somewhere doing something, just…lurking in the background. It was unnerving at the best of times down right frightening at worse. Then came the music - the rumble of an amp thumping through the floors, or the crash of the drums. Myrddin couldn't complain too much or take music away from the demon - he was happy playing, and played well. So, Myrddin was content to leave them be, despite Safir's constant whining about Lance's drum-kit or Galahads Guitars - or the scribbled down sheet music that littered the place.

Galahad was surprisingly a gentle soul, cautious about everything. He was gentle, calm and kind not wanting to hurt or damage anything or anyone for that matter. He only wanted to impress, and did his best to earn his keep and maintain it, not wanting to see disappointment on anyone's face - he was helpful in arguments, able to find a way to please both sides. he wasn’t reckless like Myrddin had worried if only for a moment. There was something beneath it all, something dark beneath him that Myrddin wished one day he could only help the young demon work out, to help him, but until that time came, Myrddin was happy to let Galahad be.

And how happy he made Cornelius could only make Myrddin smile. It’d been centuries since he’d been in love like that, and to see them so young into their lives to have found each other and being so utterly enamoured – how shamelessly they showed off how much they loved each other. And they were good for each other. Galahad matured Cornelius, if only a little, but Cornelius was happy to play his little tricks on a boyfriend who only found them endearing and as equal amounts of fun. And who could keep him calm and handle his anxieties well. And Cornelius made Galahad have fun too – stop him being so brooding. He brooded a lot to begin with – drank a lot too, which would have made Myrddin worried, but Cornelius settled Galahad into a normal life, into not having a drink every other night – didn’t really have to either ask or beg. Galahad had no problems with it, just…didn’t know what else to do with himself, like it was expected of him. And Cornelius gave him the alternative.

 

Despite the flats being full, Myrddin could feel something else lacked, just a little dash of excitement – it was all coming together nicely.

And exciting it was as just to top it all off, never did Myrddin think he’d meet a young demigod in the flesh, but here one was. shaking In his pyjamas and novelty cat slippers.  
“I am, so incredibly sorry sir” Myrddin was surprised as the demi-god spoke, head down to avoid eye contact, quivering a little bit in his slippers, a nervous little thing  
“It’s no problem my dear boy, at least it was us and not somewhere worse.” He could only offer a smile, as the demi-god continued to rub at his neck  
“Tell me Percival, where do you come from? What’s a demi-god like you doing wandering around Wakechester?” he smiled, taking a seat across from him. Percival noticing, did the same, taking the seat  
“I could ask the same of you, with a dragon and a fey….and…a demon” he frowned a little saying the last one, before moving on quickly “But I work, a similar job to this. I work for a group known as The Reckless, we run wonderland? The club?”

Percival was a very sweet boy. He was lacking in the intelligence department at times, and severely lacking in the godly levels of wisdom department. He was awkward, shy but had buckets of charm. and buckets of heart. He was as sweet as they came, and wanted to prove himself - wanted to help anyway he could. he came to the library often to see them, to see their friends. Myrddin wondered how they'd fit him in - the flats were full. he supposed he could turn a room downstairs into another flat. He was hoping Percival would be the last puzzle piece. It wouldn't be Annie he knew. Too brash to harsh. A dark cloud of mystery and secrets lingered around her and over her that dripped with the blood of those she had dealt with. So he would hope, almost pray the little demi-god could be it.

 

It however, started to go south. He started look like he wasn’t meant to be the place in the family after all give his rocky relationship with that of Galahad. Myrddin’s concern for his and Galahads relationship only grew too big once it was too late, when Galahad had come back home from a job, and had told them all that he and the demi-god's job had ended in a feud in the woods – about what he planned to do. It shamed him a little, to feel he’d failed Galahad, and had only worked the best he could to help Galahad feel better, and he thought for sure Percival would have kept his distance at that. But to his surprise, the fight didn’t scare Percival off. No, the little demigod came back, and came back a little braver, feeling better about it. And things only improved, they quickly eased into a good friendship  as they understood each other more.

And a little more when Myrddin saw both Cornelius and Galahad flirting with Percival. And found great joy in learning that the demigod had no sense of romance, or even remotely hinted at being aware they were flirting with him, and it was hilarious watching their many attempts to get Percival to give some kind of reaction, only to receive what must have been the most clueless face in the world as a response. He was even happier though, to hear Percival finally got the message, and that he would be the missing piece to their family, as after a year of flirting and and then another year of dating, Percival had decided it was time to permanently move into their flat, making it their home.

 

Yes, it’d taken its sweet time, but the family Myrddin had made himself, and the new protectors of the library had settled in, he was happy to retire, and turn the adventure over to them. They had a peaceful first year, until the love of a sister brought a wrath upon them all.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks again for reading!!  
> if you want to know about updates they can be found on my twitter and tumblr!!  
> [Here is my twitter](https://twitter.com/VeryConfuseBirb)  
> [Here is my Tumblr](http://v-e-r-y-confused-bird.tumblr.com)  
> Here are a bunch of spottily playlists based around this work!  
> [Arthur](https://open.spotify.com/user/xmtqkjkms8l37j1c4l44maf7i/playlist/55P4pGCOGIuFgaYFentK08?si=dCoxxPpFRa6a8tDSSFgbXA), [Annie](https://open.spotify.com/user/xmtqkjkms8l37j1c4l44maf7i/playlist/1BGxY5s5O60zVdoQYelKZW?si=7YEkW-0BRue1sRXpYxcRdA), [Cornelius](https://open.spotify.com/user/xmtqkjkms8l37j1c4l44maf7i/playlist/6k6xHTBjNISTXeLyiuODzZ?si=kNmlHT4JSvuyr-ef6JuE4g), [Galahad](https://open.spotify.com/user/xmtqkjkms8l37j1c4l44maf7i/playlist/6NkkcqxsMWkWgr0Eh8nKdL?si=gPpDeStgQMS7ay6m39X1_A), [Guinevere](https://open.spotify.com/user/xmtqkjkms8l37j1c4l44maf7i/playlist/4P63FRzSZ1CgoLPE5fu6Zv?si=m6u_v3EbTSmO3qZ28KbQEg), [Lance](https://open.spotify.com/user/xmtqkjkms8l37j1c4l44maf7i/playlist/6AshjuZs1RgpzkTqPlLbo1?si=6EzE8-5cTG2qD-WAs2lUtA), [Percival](https://open.spotify.com/user/xmtqkjkms8l37j1c4l44maf7i/playlist/4ltHxaOgDtrz2stmLgRELA?si=PAal0YHsTh6M6sneeYWqnw), [Safir](https://open.spotify.com/user/xmtqkjkms8l37j1c4l44maf7i/playlist/7qhONf7XBolzojW6Spm2gI?si=hk89MbQYTvSpGhTC_Bwzpg)  
> Bonus Playlist based around [Galahad, Percival and Cornelius' relationship](https://open.spotify.com/user/xmtqkjkms8l37j1c4l44maf7i/playlist/2qW4SUv5e2uiG8vr1hdZaQ?si=2mBy8OKETcSE5ryHI5XAZg)


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